


Bleeding Into Life

by theletterelle



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, My Chemical Romance
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Non-Sexual Kink, Sobriety, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theletterelle/pseuds/theletterelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard's found a way to maintain his newfound sobriety, but tour makes things much more difficult. He's going to need help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleeding Into Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jedimastergee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jedimastergee/gifts).



> This is some completely noncanonical tour. I don't even know. Title from "Socio" by Stone Sour.

"And you need to get FUCKING LAID already!"

Frank couldn't slam the bus door, but his exit was as effective as he could manage. Gerard scrambled to follow him, screamed "FUCK YOU" out the door, collapsed on the front bench seat and dropped a hand over his face. "Goddammit, goddammit, _fuck._ "

"So, yeah." Ray edged past him. "I'm just gonna think I hear my mom calling, bye." Bob had already been gone an hour, so when Ray scampered out, Gerard and Mikey were alone. Gerard groaned. "This fucking sucks. Mikes, why does everything fucking suck?"

Mikey grunted. His thumbs skipped over his phone keys.

"Seriously." Gerard sat up and thumped his fist against the bus's plexiglas window. "I'm gonna, I’m gonna kill myself if this keeps up."

"Shut the fuck up," said Mikey, never looking up. "You try it and I will kick your ass into next week. Everything doesn't suck."

"It _does_ ," said Gerard vehemently. "I can't... fuck, I can't do anything. I don't know what to do." He jumped up and started to pace the three steps that the lounge allowed him. "There's nothing left to read and there's nothing left to do and I can't sit down and watch another movie, I just can't, even if it's Empire, so don't even suggest it, and don't give me that fucking look, I know you were going to."

"No I wasn't," said Mikey. "Go find a friend."

Gerard blew out his breath. "I don't like any of our friends."

"Go have a smoke."

"I'm out."

"Bob--"

"I stole his already."

"Go for a run."

Gerard didn't even dignify that with a reply. Mikey finally squinted up through his white-framed glasses. "It's gonna get better."

"You don't know that." Gerard stared gloomily out the window. "How do you know? _You_ don't know."

"You're doing so good." Mikey put his phone down. "Seriously.”

Gerard chewed on his lip for a minute. "I hate it."

"I know."

"I want a drink."

"I know."

"I'm not gonna have one. But I _want_ one."

"I know you aren't." Mike stood up. "Wanna watch Empire?"

Gerard sighed. "Yeah, okay."

*

Gerard rode the postshow high as long as he could, but it didn't last as long as it used to with chemical assistance. His band stuck around, acting casual, until he chased them away. "Go have fun. Seriously. I'm fine, I'm just gonna go for a walk."

He did, far enough away from the parties that he could talk while being heard without being _over_ heard. He weighed his phone in his hand. It was after midnight, and she'd said it would be okay, but it was still really late, and--

He dialed.

"This is Mistress Rose. Have you been bad?"

Gerard coughed. "Hi. Uh, it's me."

She dropped the sultry tone. "Hey there, me. How are you?"

"Oh, y'know," said Gerard. "Okay, I guess. How are you?"

"No lying," she said, a touch of steel entering her voice. "You know you're not allowed to lie to me."

Gerard swallowed. "Yeah. No. Sorry. I'm just. Tense. I guess."

"Same thing?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"What have you been doing?"

Gerard shrugged, forgetting for a second she couldn't see him. "Hanging around. Trying to stay busy. There's not much to do, it's mostly sitting around on a moving bus."

There was silence on the other end. Just as Gerard was about to ask if she was still there, Mistress Rose spoke. "Where are you right now?"

"Um. Parking lot?" Gerard looked around. "A field that's a parking lot."

"Is anyone around?"

"No."

"Are you wearing a belt?"

Gerard's mouth went dry. "Yes."

"Take it off."

He had to put the phone down to unbuckle it. "It's off," he said when he picked it back up.

"What are you wearing?"

"Jeans. They have holes," he added hastily, "they aren't like solid denim jeans."

"Good enough," she said. "Fold your belt up and hit the front of your thigh."

Gerard fumbled with the phone and the belt until the phone was in his left hand, the belt in his right. He looked around again, took a deep breath, and slapped it hard against his thigh. It didn't hurt enough, so he did it again, and a third time. When he brought the phone back to his ear, he was breathing heavily.

"Good boy. Now the left one."

It was harder, but he managed.

"Hold onto the buckle. Wrap the belt around your hand so only half of it's left." When he did that, she ordered "Hit your back. Over your shoulder. Watch the neck."

The leather cracked against his back, stinging through his thin shirt. He did it again, again, as many times as she told him to, until his back was tingling and sensitive, and his shoulders had relaxed. He felt he could breathe again. His mind had quieted down, and his body felt looser, comfortable in his own skin again.

"You're awesome," he told her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sweetie," she said. "Call me when you need to."

"Is this, I mean--"

"It's only half a session, since you did all the work." He could hear her smile. "I'll charge your card."

"Thanks," he said, and meant it.

*

The relief lasted almost a week before the twitches started creeping back. Gerard tried to swallow the sharpness, tried to be extra considerate to his band and the crew and Brian, and for a while, it worked. No one seemed to notice. Gerard threw himself into the music, screaming at the crowds every night, throwing himself around stage until he was exhausted enough to sleep at night.

That could only work for so long, though. Nothing ever made the need go away; it just pushed it back for a little while. And twenty-four hours on a bus was a long time to go without some sort of outlet.

Gerard lay on his bunk. Only four more hours to go till they got there. He could do four hours. Four hours was nothing.

Well, four hours _used_ to be nothing, back when he could knock back some pills and bliss out. Entire days had been nothing back then. Now he was experiencing life minute by excruciating minute, and it was so. Very. Slow.

Bob clunked through the bunk area on the way to the bathroom. "I'm trying to _sleep_ ," Gerard called through clenched teeth.

"Sorry," Bob called back.

Whatever. It didn't matter. Gerard dug his nails into his thighs and looked at the bunk's ceiling. He could hear Ray snoring. He wanted to go hold Ray's nose closed to shut him up, and Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with Gerard? Ray hadn't done shit to him. God. Fuck.

He got up then, and paced up to the front lounge, where the reflections of the tiny blue lights gleamed in the windows. Mikey was leaning against the kitchenette's counter, thumbs scurrying across the keys of his Sidekick.

"I hate you," said Gerard.

Mikey frowned and tapped out a response. "No you don't."

"I hate Ray," said Gerard.

"You do not."

"I hate Bob."

"Stop it."

"I hate Frank."

"Yeah, okay."

Gerard huffed a quiet laugh. "No, I don't."

"No, you don't," Mikey agreed. "You don't hate anybody. It's not in you."

 _I hate myself,_ Gerard thought but didn't say. "What about Pete?"

"That's different. You either love Pete or hate him. You don't love him, so..." Mikey shrugged. "He gets it. He's used to it."

That suddenly seemed very sad. "Tell Pete I don't hate him."

Mikey tapped it out, then held the screen so Gerard could see.

_grd lvs u. wants ur bbs_

The response came back immediately.

_not tll he gvs me th rng. 2crts or no manjuice._

Gerard snorted softly. "He's an idiot." Mikey hummed in answer.

Gerard looked out the window. They were in the middle of nowhere, running down a freeway with no lights and no other cars, the sole outpost of humanity in a vast expanse of nothingness. He squeezed his hands together. "I want a drink," he said.

Mikey said "I know."

Gerard made a fist and suddenly slammed it into his thigh. It let him breathe easier for a second. He looked up to find Mikey staring at him unblinkingly. He let out a sigh. "Sorry."

"Do I have to worry about you?" Mikey asked.

"Never stopped you before," said Gerard.

"Seriously," said Mikey. The blue fairy lights made pinpoints in his glasses. "Are you going to do something stupid?"

Gerard sighed again. He shook his head. "No stupider than normal. Promise. It's just when I get like this, I need..." He tapped his fingers on his knee.

"What?" asked Mikey after a pause.

"Nothing," said Gerard. "Never mind. You don't have to worry. I'm going to be okay."

*

The next day went off without a hitch, and the next city was only six hours away, so after the show, the buses all moved to a strip of motels by the highway off-ramp. Gerard, still a little hyped, grabbed hold of Brian's shoulder as they got off the bus. "We're on a different floor, right?"

"I'll tell them," said Brian.

"Because I can't be on a party floor."

"I know, man. It's okay. I'll get you a room in one of the other buildings."

"Don't put me near Joe," Gerard yelled at Brian's retreating back, and Brian waved in response.

Brian got him and Mikey a room on the other side of the motel. Gerard threw the bedspread into the corner and sat on one of the beds as Mikey turned on the rattling air conditioner. "You going to sleep?" Mikey asked.

"No. Yeah. I don't know." Gerard's leg jittered. "What are you going to do?"

Mikey shrugged. "Probably go hang with Pete for a little while."

"Yeah." Gerard looked at the bolted-down block of a TV. "Maybe I'll see what's on."

Mikey stood there for a minute. When Gerard looked up, he saw Mikey staring at him. "What?" said Gerard defensively. "I can watch TV. I don't need a nanny for that."

"I wasn't thinking that," said Mikey. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I'm gonna be right back."

"Okay," said Gerard, already losing interest.

He flipped through the channels, zoning out a little bit on local weather, and contemplated ordering a juicer that came with a set of knives. There was a Columbo rerun, a romantic comedy he'd never heard of, a reality show where people were screaming at each other. TV sucked. Everything sucked. Gerard jumped up and began to pace. If the remote hadn't been bolted to the nightstand, he might have thrown it through the TV. He jammed his hands savagely into his pockets and paced faster.

He was at the bathroom end when the door clicked and creaked open, and Gabe Saporta stumbled through, Mikey behind him. "Okay," said Mikey. "I'm going away now. I'm going to be gone all night. You guys... play Uno or something. I don't want to know. Bye." The door slammed, and Gerard heard Mikey's shoes squeak as he ran down the landing.

Gerard looked at Gabe, who looked back at him. “Uno?” said Gabe.

Gerard shrugged. "I don't even know. What did he tell you?"

"That you wanted to talk to me about something, and it might take a while.” 

“I wanted?” Gerard shook his head. “No idea.”

“Yeah, well.” Gabe’s eyes looked shifty. “He didn’t say what, exactly. But enough to give me the gist.”

Gerard frowned, trying to figure out what Mikey would have said to Gabe that would have him-- fuck, that would have him walking over to Gerard and pushing him against the wall and bending down and _kissing_ \--

Gerard had enough presence of mind to shove Gabe away. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“What?” Gabe was confused. “He said you wanted to.”

“He said no such thing!” 

“It’s what he meant!”

“Bullshit!” Gerard almost had to laugh. “I don’t send my little brother out to get me dates. What did he tell you?”

Gabe seemed affronted that anyone would reject his kisses, but he rolled his eyes back and recited. “Gerard needs someone to help him out. You might make him cry, but that’s okay. He’ll tell you what the deal is. It’ll probably take a while. Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”

Oh fuck. _Mikey._ For a second, Gerard was so embarrassed he couldn't see straight. "Yeah. Okay. Mikey made a mistake, so you should probably go now."

“You okay, dude?” Gabe ducked closer to Gerard’s face, which felt like it was on fire. 

“Yeah. No. Yeah.” Gerard would kill Mikey when he saw him again. "You wouldn't understand.”

"I understand a lot of shit," said Gabe, "including shit that's so weird that it's illegal in Brazil. Lay it on me."

It wasn’t something Gerard had told anyone. Not because he was ashamed. He’d be the first to read the lecture about how nothing people _needed_ was shameful as long as all parties consented and it wasn’t, like, harmful or dangerous or whatever. It was just... something... he didn’t talk about. No one else needed to know. 

Until now. He wasn’t handling things well, and they were on tour for the foreseeable future, and it didn’t look like he’d get any better at it. Gabe may not have been his first choice, but it was true that he had no room to judge. 

So Gerard spilled. It was a relief in itself just to let the story out-- the crawling feeling that turned into unbearable craving, the anxiety over failure, the pressure not to screw up everything. "There isn't a lot of time and space for it," he said, "and I can only do so much myself. It's not the same. I can't feel it all if I have to be careful."

Gabe didn't say anything, just stood there and listened until Gerard finished. When he did speak, he asked "So why wouldn't I understand that?"

“The man who named his band after a giant talking cobra he saw on an acid trip? Yeah, no idea.” Gerard rolled his eyes. 

Gabe sat on the dresser beside the TV. “I don’t know if you knew, but I was edge for years. That’s not the point, though. I understand needing to get away from yourself. I spent a summer in the desert looking for what I needed, and I found it. You found your thing that works for you. Now you just need some help with it, right?”

Wow. Gerard needed to give Gabe more credit. “Yeah. Kind of. I guess, yeah.”

“Okay then.” Gabe rolled to his feet. “How do we start?”

*

" _Completely_ naked?" Gabe asked.

Gerard nodded, pulling off his pants. "It's the connection," he explained. "The asymmetry. It's a power thing; I give mine to you and you hang on to it for me so I can not be responsible."

“Fair enough,” said Gabe. "Do you have to call me Daddy or anything?"

"Fuck no," said Gerard. "Not that there's anything wrong with that, if that's someone's thing." He slid off his underwear. "But it's not mine. I'm calling you Gabe."

"Cool. What's your safeword?"

"Time out."

"That's a phrase.”

Gerard folded his arms. "Are you gonna argue or are you gonna hit me?"

Gabe looked Gerard up and down, and Gerard braced himself for some kind of lewd remark about his junk. But Gabe just looked for another second, and his face was kind of... wistful might describe it. Gerard started to say something, but Gabe took him by the shoulder and pushed him back on the bed.

Gerard sprawled, then got himself turned over and stretched out in the middle of the bed. Gabe picked up Gerard's pants and drew the belt out. "Wait," said Gerard, his stomach fluttering like it always did when things were about to start. "If you start with your hand, it lasts longer. I can take more."

"How much more?" asked Gabe.

"I don't know. How do you quantify something like that? Just, more. The longer we go, the better it feels after." The flutter in his stomach intensified, a mixture of anticipation and fear and embarrassment and longing. He shouldn't be embarrassed; this was a perfectly valid way of releasing emotion. Gabe might be a party guy, but Mikey had entrusted Gerard to him, so he was safe. He took a deep breath and relaxed.

That lasted as long as it took for Gabe to smack him on the ass.

Gerard let out a tiny yelp. Gabe smacked him again. “You good?”

“Yeah,” said Gerard, breathing out and trying to unclench his body, “yeah, I’m good.”

“Do you need me to put you over my knee?”

“Oh my God, please shut up.”

“I thought we were talking power exchange here.” Gabe thwacked him hard. “You wanted me to take all the power, so you get rude and I’m gonna get mean."

And just like that, Gerard slipped under. He lay his head down into his arms and felt the muscles in his back relax further and further each time Gabe spanked him. He stopped being embarrassed. He stopped being scared. It all felt right.

Gabe was _good_ at this. He ramped up slowly, increasing the force just as Gerard was about to give in and ask for more. Gerard's ass tingled, burning when Gabe's hand connected. The ever-present alcohol craving went away, and Gerard almost cried with relief.

Gabe had to change hands a couple times, but before he was done, he was bringing his arm up and landing solid, hard blows. They hurt, but it was a good pain that sent Gerard melting into the bed. He blinked his eyes blearily when Gabe stopped and shook out his hand.

"That's enough," Gabe said. "Any more and I'm gonna burn my hands off." He reached down and picked up the belt. Gerard's mind was hazy, but he smiled when he saw it. This was it. This was so going to be it.

He closed his eyes and tensed in eager anticipation. He waited, and waited, and just as he was about to look back and ask Gabe what the hell was keeping him, he heard the belt whip through the air. It hit him with a shock of sound and pain. He gasped. For a second, he couldn't get a thought straight in his head, and then the belt came down again, hard. The sizzle raced through him, and he moaned and stretched his arms out above his head.

Again, and Gerard could feel the itch under his skin dissipate. Again, and the rush of endorphins pushed everything else out of mind. No more craving, no more longing, just him and the belt and the pain he needed.

And Gabe. Gerard wondered hazily why Mikey hadn't thought of this before. This was perfection. Gabe hit hard enough to shock, hard enough to hurt, but not so hard Gerard was scared. Gabe striped his back and ass and thighs with welts; Gerard knew it would hurt for days. Every time he sat down, every time he leaped around like a maniac on stage, he'd feel this.

He relaxed under the blows, letting everything bleed out thorugh his fingertips, and melted into the bed. His moans turned into long sighing grunts at each hit. His ass and legs burned now, stripes on top of stripes. He would have asked Gabe not to stop, but he couldn't remember how to talk.

Gerard only realized it had stopped when he felt Gabe's fingertips touch his skin. He reared his head up, leaving a line of drool on the pillow. "Hey, no," he pleaded, but Gabe's hand skimmed up his back and gently pressed his head back down.

"It's okay," said Gabe. "It's good. You're okay. I'm here."

This morning, that wouldn't have been a comfort. This morning was a long time ago. Gabe brushed Gerard's wet hair out of his face, and Gerard realized he'd been crying. "It's just so..." One hand flapped limply.

"Yeah," said Gabe. He sat down beside Gerard. The bed sagged. "I know how it is. You're gonna be okay."

“You don’t know,” said Gerard. “No one knows. How can you know?” He closed his eyes again and felt tears trickle out from under his lids.

“The Cobra told me,” Gabe said.

Gerard didn't have the strength to argue the point. It might even have been true. _He_ didn't know it, _Mikey_ didn't know it, but maybe Gabe did. He wouldn't mind believing that Gabe did. 

Gabe’s fingers were calloused, rough on Gerard’s cheek. Gabe lifted Gerard’s head, settled it on his thigh, and threaded his hand through Gerard’s hair. Gerard sighed and nuzzled into Gabe’s knee. “Did the Cobra tell you what’s gonna happen?” he mumbled.

“The Cobra said...” Gabe paused for a second. “That we’re all going to be famous. And rich. We’re going to find our soul mates, and we’re going to do great things, and we’ll be happy for the rest of our lives.”

Gerard let that sink in. “I like the Cobra,” he said. His voice was starting to slur.

“He’s pretty great,” said Gabe. 

Gerard shifted and grunted. The heat had died down, and he was left stiffening and sore. He didn’t want to move, but Gabe eased his head down to the pillow and covered him up. “You goin’?” asked Gerard.

“Yeah,” said Gabe, “they’re partying downstairs, y’know, hotel night--”

“Yeah,” said Gerard. “Cool. Have lots of fun.”

Gabe paused. “I could stay,” he said.

“No partying here,” said Gerard. He blinked blearily up at Gabe.

“Yeah, I know.” Gabe sat down on the other bed and crossed his legs. “I can go without for a night.”

Gerard wanted to shoo Gabe away. Gerard wasn’t fun anymore; without the pills and drinks and pot, he was nothing more than the shy nerd loser he’d been most of his life. Gabe deserved better. But Gerard was perfectly worn out, and he didn’t have the energy or desire to kick Gabe out to play with the popular kids. So he closed his eyes and let it go, a contented smile on his face.


End file.
